Soul Survivor
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: She was the only one to survive on Flight 321, the plane that crashed in the Naval yard outside NCIS HQ. So when Gibbs and his team are forced to sift through the bodies and put the pieces together, Agent McGee finds himself drawn to, and falling for, the sole survivor of the doomed flight. McGiva. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Soul Survivor**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: She was the only one to survive on Flight 321, the plane that crashed in the Naval yard outside NCIS HQ. So when Gibbs and his team are forced to sift through the bodies and put the pieces together, Agent McGee finds himself drawn to, and falling for, the sole survivor of the doomed flight. McGiva. AU. **

She leaned back, taking a deep breath. It had taken a lot for her to leave Tel Aviv and come to Washington, but she had done it. Stepped out of the death and destruction that had been her childhood, before it was too late, before it took her down with it. Sure, she hadn't been able to save Tali, but she had been able to save herself. She hadn't let her father get his clutches on her; she'd taken her mother's urgent warning and fled, leaving all she knew and loved for a life in America.

She leaned forward, looking through the window, seeing the Anacostia River stretching out before her. She hated to fly, though she had no reason to. She could see the Navy Yard, stretching out before her, and after a moment, settled back in her seat. Slowly, she reached up, grasping the Star of David she wore around her neck. Closing her eyes, she let the past carry her away.

Lighting the candles, singing the blessing, with her father by her side, as her mother, brother and sister sat across from them and watched. Racing Ari through the olive groves, pushing Tali on the swings, baking cookies with her mother, or dancing with her father to the records he used to play. Playing doctor or house with Deena, or going to the library.

All were memories of a time that was now forever left in Israel, for she had no intention to return. No, she was going to make a life here in America, make something of herself. She was going to be a force for good, not the evil her father was intent on turning her into. She wouldn't become a killer, not like Ari. Her half-brother's blood was the last she would shed.

She had only done what she thought was right. Deena was her best friend, no matter what, she had done it to protect her. And instead of gratitude, she had been shunned, turned away like a leper, accused of destroying both Deena's life and Ari's for her actions. Swallowing, she shook the thoughts away, turning instead, towards her bright, new future.

Here, she could be whatever and whoever she wanted to be. She could be free.

And she would be.

* * *

><p>"Morning, McGee." He gave Kate Todd a small smile; the brunette was coming back from the break room, coffee in hand, as he stepped off the elevator and headed towards the bullpen.<p>

"Morning, Kate, how was your weekend?" She shrugged, glancing at the desk directly across from where Gibbs sat. It had been two weeks since Agent Tony DiNozzo had taken a post in Rota, Spain, to head his own field team, leaving Agent McGee, a transfer from the L.A. office two years earlier, as Senior Field Agent. Kate Todd had just joined, the probie of the small team, former Secret Service, and the only female on Agent Gibbs' team. Agent Gibbs had yet to arrive, that Kate had seen. Either he wasn't here, or if he was, he was most likely skulking around the building somewhere.

"It was okay, quiet. Had lunch with my sister, caught up on my sleep. You, Tim?"

He shrugged. "Did a press release for my new book-"

"Oh, _Deep Six_? It finally came out in hardback?" Everyone at the Navy Yard knew that Tim was a best-selling author, and after a minor upset about him basing his characters off his coworkers, had come to enjoy the young agent on Gibbs' team. He nodded. "I've been waiting for it to come out in hardback for weeks! But when I went to the bookstore to pick up a copy-" She let out a very impish squeal of delight as Tim removed a copy from his bag and handed it to her.

"Being the author has its perks." He said, as she took the hardcover and opened it up, reading the autograph on the first page.

_"'Thanks for being such a great partner, Agent Thompson.'- Thom. E. Gemcity"_

He shrugged, going to the desk directly across from Kate. "Glad you like it, Kate."

"Oh, Tim! That's so sweet!" He looked up as Kate came over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I can't wait to start reading it."

* * *

><p>She took a deep breath, eyes snapping open at the feel of turbulence shaking the plane, shaking her from the last minutes of good sleep she'd gotten since deciding to flee. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back to relax as the captain's voice came over the speakers. "We have hit some light turbulence, but it should be-"<p>

Her gaze turned to the window, eyes widening in shock as the ground suddenly came up to meet her.

* * *

><p>It was quiet in the bullpen, Gibbs had arrived and taken a seat at his desk, leaving his two remaining agents to work in silence. They were working cold cases for the day, and so relished the silence that had become so... commonplace with Tony's leaving. Eventually, Tim got up, heading towards the break room for a cup of coffee, but something outside caught his gaze. He went to the window, catching sight of a plane, moving diagonal towards the ground outside the Navy Yard.<p>

In the next several minutes, time seemed to stand still, and then suddenly, the plane Tim had been watching, slammed into the ground, bursting into flames and breaking apart before his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

****Rifiuto: Non Miriena****

****Thanks to Reader and JonnyP86 for reviewing 1.****

He couldn't believe his eyes, yet all he could do was drop the cup and rush towards the elevator. Kate looked up, in time to see the plane explode, and she was soon hot on Tim's heels, Gibbs following behind. Tim was the first of the NCIS agents to make it outside, and the only thing he could think, for some odd reason, as he gazed upon the carnage, the wreckage of Flight 321, was of the World Trade Center as it, engulfed in smoke and flames, imploded in on itself and soon covered downtown Manhattan in dust, debris and atomized human.

As he rushed out towards the burning, broken remnants of the plane, he was taken back to that long ago day two years ago, when he'd watched the flight he was supposed to board for California, to see his parents- Flight Eleven- slam into the North Tower. He'd overslept and missed his flight, and had spent the next twelve hours at Ground Zero, trying to help get people out. As he raced through the Naval Yard, screaming directions and orders, he could feel the heat of the flames and smell the acrid rubber that was jet fuel.

It dragged him back towards that bright Tuesday morning; he lost a cousin, trapped in Windows on the World. Two years younger than he, Taylor had been waitressing to put herself through school; she wanted to become an injury attorney, and that dream had been cruelly ripped from her as the North Tower gave way under the heat and smoke and folded upon itself. He had lost a childhood friend, aboard Flight Seventy-Seven, that slammed into the Pentagon, and another one aboard Flight Ninety-Three; it was that image, that flashed before his mind as he rushed to help.

There wasn't much anyone could do, but put out the fire and search for survivors. Magazines, carry-ons, books, glasses, all lay scattered about, melted, burning or smoldering in the ruble. As he rushed towards the burning rubble, he could only vaguely hear the shouts of his teammates, but he ignored them, green gaze scanning for the sight of anyone who survived.

As he moved closer towards the smoldering back of the plane, something caught his foot, and he turned back. It took a moment for him to decipher what was holding onto him; he could only see the blackened and broken flesh, and then he found himself staring into frightened dark eyes. "P... pl... _pleas_..." Quickly, Tim knelt down, removing what he now saw was a hand from his shoe, and reaching down to check the pulse.

Minutes passed in eerie silence around him, much like it had that bright, beautiful Tuesday morning. He'd received Taylor's last message on his cell hours later when the lines weren't jammed- he kept it on his iPod and played it on the anniversary in remembrance of her- and though he'd been able to help get other people out of the towers- as many as humanly possible- he hadn't been able to save Taylor. She had been too high up, trapped within the smoke and heat above the impact zone, and Tim had been powerless to protect her, like he'd always done.

Taylor was the reason he'd transferred from the L.A. offices to first Norfolk, and then to D.C., after a year in Virginia. If he were closer to New York and D.C., like he had been that day, then maybe he could make up for the guilt he felt at Taylor's death. He turned his gaze back to the young girl- no, the young woman- trapped beneath the wreckage. He struggled, accepting the other agents that came to help get her out; pinned beneath a portion of the plane, they worked with vigor to free her from the plane that could be her deathbed. Once she was free, Tim, who'd been gently guiding her burned, broken and damaged and strapped body from the plane- for she was still residing in the seat, like so many of them had been- he then worked to cut the straps from her small figure, before scooping her up in his arms and rushing from the crash site.

"McGee!" He looked up as Gibbs and Kate rushed to him, each from separate areas of the crash site, as they'd searched for survivors. "Oh God!" Kate quickly crossed herself as Tim tightened his hold on the girl.

"Get her to the ambulance, McGee!" But Gibbs words didn't even reach the Senior agent's ears; he'd already rushed to the waiting ambulance, handing her over.

"How can this happen, Gibbs?" Kate asked, unable to take her eyes off the carnage of the plane as it burned and died in the Navy Yard. "What would cause-"

"Any number of things, Kate." He replied, turning as Ducky joined them, having rushed back into NCIS to bring out more gurneys. The M.E. sighed.

"We shall have a full autopsy tonight, Jethro. I pray that they went quickly and felt no pain." Gibbs nodded silently and turned back, watching as Tim climbed into the ambulance and the doors shut behind him before the vehicle took off, screaming down the road.

* * *

><p>After explaining the situation, though there was no need for it, for the EMTs had arrived not long after the crash was reported and had seen the destruction done, Tim took a seat beside the young woman, gripping her hand as they worked to save her. "You're going to be okay, I promise. You're going to make it, you hear me? You're going to be okay."<p>

"Did you see any other survivors, Agent McGee?" He shook his head, never removing his gaze from the young woman being worked on. Her dark eyes held fear, and he tried to whisk it away with a soft smile.

"My name is Timothy McGee. I'm an agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Your plane crashed in the Navy Yard outside the NCIS Headquarters. We're taking you to Bethesda Memorial; they're going to take good care of you, okay? We're all going to take good care of you." He gave her another smile as she weakly squeezed his hand in response.


	3. Chapter 3

****Rifiuto: Non Miriena****

******Thanks to JonnyP86, Crawcolady, Sazzita, mcgeeksgirl and Reader for reviewing 2.******

He didn't let go of her hand until they rushed her into surgery. Two hours later, and Tim had made himself at home in the waiting room, trying to get the images of the plane crash out of his head. Eventually, he pulled out his headphones and stuck them in, playing music to get the sound of the jet breaking up and exploding to stop ringing in his ears. With his music on 'shuffle', he went through everything from _Nutcracker's Spanish Hot Chocolate_, to the Shakira and Selena cds his younger sister Sarah had downloaded onto it, insisting that he needed to experience other music besides the Big Band and Jazz he loved so much. He had leaned his head back, closing his eyes to catch a moment's rest, but the familiar voice in his ears caused his eyes to snap open.

Quickly, he grabbed the iPod, pulling up the title of the mp3; in block, white letters, he read the words, _Tayla's Last Message from Windows on the World_. He swallowed. He had always called his cousin Tayla- it had been a childhood nickname, stemming from Tim's toddler inability to say his baby cousin's full name. So Tayla she became.

_"Timmy, it's me, it's Taylor. Something's happened. There... there was an explosion or something in the lower floors of the tower... we can't... we can't get out of the restaurant, we can't get down the stairs, and there's a lot of smoke... God, there's so much smoke! The windows are black, Timmy! It looks like night!_ _We're... we're okay right now, but... but I'm trapped up here with a hundred other people... some people are starting to jump..."_ He heard her take a shaky breath as panic began to creep into her voice._ "Timmy, I'm so scared..."_ A moment passed as she stopped, taking a deep, breath, tears choking her words. _"Timmy, I... I know you were supposed to be on a plane out to California... I hope you made it... Oh God, Timmy, the... the floor is so hot..."_

"Agent McGee? I'm Dr. Wilcox-" He looked up, tears in his eyes as he quickly paused the recording; the voicemail went on for thirty-two minutes and twenty-four seconds, her last breath could be heard on the phone as the tower collapsed and the ceiling fell in on itself; Tim had yet to make his way through the whole message, he usually stopped after five minutes, unable to go on. He stood, pulling the headphones from his ears and stuffing the iPod into his pocket. He went to the doctor, suddenly remembering why he was at Bethesda.

"How is she?" The older man gave him a small nod, taking a seat directly across from him.

"She has extensive injuries- several cracked ribs, and third degree burns over about eighty percent of her body. There are lacerations from the crash on her chest and back, and somehow, she managed to dislocate her shoulder. We're going to take her into surgery soon, once we're done cutting the clothing from her body."

"Will she survive?" He couldn't let her die; he'd been helpless to say Taylor, he couldn't let another innocent die the way his cousin, his childhood friends had. He couldn't allow her to succumb to the same fiery death they all had. He had to make sure she survived; he had to make things right, to know that Taylor's death and his becoming a federal agent hadn't been in vain. Her surviving would give him that reassurance, that tiny light in an already dark, horrible day. Dr. Wilcox shrugged.

"Her surviving is entirely up her, Agent McGee." He sighed, reaching out to pat the agent's knee. "If she has the will to survive, then she will. I won't lie, it's going to be a long road ahead for her if she does survive, and she is going to need all the support she can get. Is there any family that we can contact?" Tim shook his head, shrugging.

"I don't know. She... she was on Flight 321, when it crashed in the Navy Yard. We don't know if she was with family or... our team is still sifting through the wreckage, pulling out the bodies. As soon as I was able to get her out, with help, I rushed her here. As of now, it looks like she may be the only survivor." The doctor nodded, swallowing.

* * *

><p>"It's going to take all night. And it looks like all we're going to be digging out of this wreckage are bodies." Gibbs turned to Kate. The young woman tossed her head, brushing a streak of dirt off her forehead, and only succeeding in spreading it further over her face. Without a word, he went to Ducky and Palmer, who had separated the bodies and laid them out, attempting to put the pieces together.<p>

"What do we got, Duck?" Gibbs asked, as the M.E. and his assistant turned to him.

"A mess, Jethro!" The eccentric Scotsman replied. "So far, about fifty bodies have been pulled, on a passenger jet this size, I would say it was carrying about one hundred, hundred fifty passengers and maybe six, seven crew, so... a hundred fifty-seven at most."

"How do you know it's a passenger jet, Duck?" Gibbs asked, glancing over the bodies they'd lined up- some full bodies, some only partial body parts. Both Palmer and Ducky nodded towards a nearby piece of smoldering wreckage, and Gibbs moved closer, seeing the number in black paint. Gibbs sighed, turning back to the bodies. Without another word, he returned to where Kate was sorting and logging through the wreckage.

"I don't think anyone survived, Gibbs. Not that I can see, anyway."

"There was one, Kate. That McGee took to the hospital. So there was one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sorry, life got ahold of me and so I've only been able to upload stories already written; I have this chapter written, but I haven't gotten to posting it yet, so... here we go.**

**Thanks to Sazzita for reviewing 1 and 3, and JonnyP86, Reader and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 3. **

"... she's just gone into surgery, Boss... yeah, I'll stay with her. How are things going?" His heart dropped at the estimated death toll, and he swallowed, struggling to sip his coffee, for his throat had closed. "Yes, I'm still here... okay... okay, yeah, I... I'll ask her when she wakes up..." He looked up as the Dr. Wilcox came towards him. "I have to go, Boss... yeah, I'll let you know." Without a word, he hung up, slipping his phone back into his jacket. He paled slightly at the amount of blood on the man's operating scrubs, but quickly took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.

"How is she, Dr.?" Wilcox sighed.

"She's alive; sedated, but alive. Considering the extent of her injuries and the fact that we had to literally cut her out of her clothing... she's breathing. Not fully on her own, but at least she's breathing. If she pulls through, it'll be a long road for her." Tim nodded.

"Can I see her?" The doctor gave him a soft smile and nodded, leading him towards the ICU. As he led the agent into the room, he went to a small table.

"I know you are going through an investigation- this is what we've been able to slavage from her person. It's all in here." Tim thanked him, and once the doctor left, he went to the sink in the corner near the cupboard and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. After pulling them on, he went to the white plastic bag the evidence bag resided in. Gently, he shook out everything onto the bag, sorting it carefully.

A few scraps of burned and charred clothing, most likely a blouse, or jacket; a bent and burned photograph- he righted it. It was of two girls, one of them had to be the girl in the bed. He sighed, turning back to the rest: a boarding pass, passport, some crumpled dollar bills- they looked like they were middle eastern-

The last thing caused his breath to catch.

A necklace, with a golden Star of David pendant.

Tim took a deep breath; all they'd found of Tayla, was her necklace. A beautiful, silver Celtic knot meaning protection, the only thing that had not been obliterated when the tower fell. He'd broken down when one of the firemen came and held it out to him, asking if he recognized it. Her necklace now resided around his neck. His aunt and uncle had allowed him to keep it; they knew how close the two had been. With Tayla's knot around his neck, it was almost like she was there beside him. It brought him comfort, in that odd, disturbing way.

Slowly, he picked up the pendant, studying the design. He'd never seen a Star of David- he knew about it, he understood it; hell, he'd worked counterterrorism for a year in L.A. before becoming a full field agent; he knew the religion it centered around, but he'd never seen one. He licked his lips, thinking.

_Star of David_. _Jewish_. A way to mark Jews during the Holocaust. There were some Jewish Orthodox groups that refused to use the star because it was associated with magic. It was also used by some street gangs- gangs he and his colleagues had ended up in a tussle with chasing a suspect they were harboring back when he was still in L.A.

After a moment, he got up, moving around the bed and stopping by her side. Gently, he reached out, lowering the neck of her hospital gown. He sighed; there it was- the star, a starkingly white outline amid the burns on her chest. He held out the necklace, holding the pendant just above her skin, before slowly lowering it over the outline.

A perfect fit to the brand on her skin.

Tim sighed, shaking his head-

A hand reached up, latching around his wrist, the fingers coated black, broken and blistered. He stepped back, but she looked up at him, dark eyes wide and frightened. A moment passed, before he was able to think, and he reached over, hitting the button on the remote resting near her other side, signaling the nurse. Dr. Wilcox and a couple nurses rushed into the room, and after finally being able to remove Tim's wrist from her grasp, they gently pushed him from the room as they worked on calming the girl down and removing the breathing apparatus from her throat.

* * *

><p>"Agent McGee?" He looked up from his chair, elbows resting on his knees. "You can go in now." With a nod, he slipped into the room. He stayed back in the shadows, watching the girl whose life he'd saved, drinking in as many details as he could from the distance. She was young, probably in her late teens or early twenties. From what he could tell, she was obviously of Jewish descent, with long dark hair and dark eyes. She was small for her presumed age.<p>

Sighing, he made his way towards her, pulling a chair up and taking a seat. She slowly turned to face him, dark eyes drinking him in. He was young, probably a little older than her, but still, young. Porcelain, or alabaster, like those Greek statues she'd seen in books. With beautiful, piercing green eyes. And when he spoke, his voice was soft, gentle.

"I'm Agent McGee, I'm with NCIS. Now, I know this is scary, but you're safe now. You're at Bethesda Memorial Hospital. You were involved in a plane crash; as of now, it looks as though you are the only survivor. Now, I need to know what you remember before the plane crashed. We've opened an investigation, but right now, we need to try and build a timeline. And if I know who you are, I can pinpoint exactly where you were when the plane crashed. Can you tell me your name?"

The girl watched him, dark eyes drinking him in. After several moments of silence, she choked out,

"Z... Ziva."


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: This is set in 2004. Remember, this _is_ AU.**

**Thanks to Reader and Sazzita for reviewing 4.**

"Hey Boss... listen, I found out her name. It's Ziva." He sighed. "She won't tell me her last name."

"Okay, Kate's gotten ahold of the passenger list; I'll have her run the through the list and see if a passenger with that name pops up." A moment passed, when Tim thought his boss had hung up, before, "You stay with her, McGee."

"Will do, Boss." They disconnected, and after taking a deep breath, Tim slipped back into the room. She was staring out the window, her breathing so even that for a moment, Tim thought she was sleeping. After a moment, she turned her head, meeting his gaze. He sighed, taking a seat beside her bed. "You're going to be here for the next few days until the doctors feel you are strong enough to be released. In the meantime, we need the names of your parents and their contact information so that we can contact them and let them know what happened."

She shook her head, dark eyes filling with fear when he mentioned her parents. As Tim reached out to rest a hand on her arm and reassure her, his phone rang, and he excused himself, slipping back into the hall. "McGee."

"Her name is Ziva David, Tim. She's an Israeli national, aged twenty-one, born November twelfth, nineteen-eighty-two. Her parents are Rivka and Eli David; they're divorced. She had a younger sister, Talia, who died at age sixteen, and an older half-brother, Ari, who was a doctor in Edinburough. She was a student at Tel Aviv University."

"Thanks Kate." He removed the phone to hang up, when her voice caught his attention again.

"Wait!" He sighed.

"What is it, Kate?" A beat passed, with nothing but silence on the other end before,

"Her father is the Director of Mossad." A lump formed in his throat and he forced it down.

"Thanks, Kate. I'll... I'll see what I can get out of her and let you know." By the time they hung up, he was seriously considering calling back and asking her to come down and talk to the girl, but Gibbs had told_ him_ to stay with her, not Kate. Squaring his shoulders, he headed back into the room, taking a seat beside the bed again. He studied her, before getting up and going to the bathroom. He returned with wet paper towel, and then perched on the edge of her bed. Her head snapped up, and she stared at him, horrified as he reached out to touch her face. "Shh, shh, shh. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to be able to see your face better." She strained to keep him from touching her.

"I... I'm not a... child. I'm not a child." She replied, voice getting stronger with each word. He sighed.

"I'm just trying to help." She watched him, searching his green eyes, before relaxing. "Thank you." Tenderly, he worked on removing the soot and dirt from her skin; he knew firsthand that oftentimes, burn victims were left as were while they were worked on if there was another serious injury to take care of first. His cousin Paula was one of them.

The second oldest of the McGee-Cassidy-Jones-Monroe-Lasalle cousins, Paula also worked at NCIS, under the direction of Special Agent Leon Vance. Smart-mouthed and a complete tomboy in all but the way she dressed, Cassidy, as she was affectionately- and not so affectionately- known at NCIS, had suffered burns to her upper thighs as a child. She'd been ten, Tim about four, his sister about two, and their cousins- Christopher, aged fourteen and Elizabeth, twelve- had spent the summer down in New Orleans, staying with Christopher's parents. At some point, somehow, Cassidy had gotten burned; she'd spent a week in the hospital, getting skin graphs and recovering. To this day, Paula wouldn't talk about it, and it was never brought up.

He chuckled internally. Of all the irony, he and all three of his cousins ended up working for NCIS- various locations, on opposite sides of the continent, but still, they all had that common link. He and Paula were here on the east coast, at D.C.; Chris- who'd dropped his the hyphen _and_ his father's last name, Monroe, but kept his stepfather's- still resided in New Orleans, where he was born and raised. And Elizabeth- or 'Bet' as she was lovingly called by the family- was up in Seattle, working in the tiny Seattle office in downtown, up above a coffee shop, with a former West Point dropout, an original member of the 'Federal Fifteen', something no one ever explained, and an Irish-born American who spent the majority of her life bouncing back and forth between the Emerald Isle and the Melting Pot.

"What is funny?" He looked up, snapping out of his thoughts as he found her watching him intently. He shook his head.

"Nothing. Just... thinking. About my family." She nodded, tilting her chin up to allow him to get beneath her jaw.

"Your family?" He nodded. "What... what is your family like?" He sighed, adjusting the paper towel to get just beneath her ear.

"Odd." She furrowed a brow. "Different." He clarified. She nodded, slowly. A moment passed, before he continued. "My family is military; and my cousins and I- there's five of us, counting my little sister, who's graduating high school and starting college in the fall- we're all in federal law enforcement, for the same agency."

"N-" He nodded, stopping her.

"NCIS, yeah. My older cousin, Cassidy, works here in D.C. with me in the same building. My cousin Chris is down in New Orleans, and Bet- my other cousin, is clear across the country in Seattle."

"What is bit?" Her brow furrowed, and she closed her eyes, allowing him to get the soot that coated her eyelids.

"B_e_t. Short for Elizabeth. It's a nickname." He watched her, before, "What about you? What is your family like; your little sister, Talia and your... older brother, Ari." Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled to sit up, even as he pushed her back against the pillows.

"Who... _who told you about them? Who_?"

"Whoa, calm down-"

"They did not tell you what I did, did they? I did not mean to; I _had to_. I_ had no choice_. _Who told you about Tali and Ari_?" He sighed.

"My agency looked you up, so we could contact your parents, let them know you survived. They were in your file, and your file was under your father's name-"

"_He made me do it_," She choked out, tears coming to her eyes. "He _made me kill my brother_... and _I might as well have killed my sister too_."


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Gently, he reached down, taking her hand in his gloved one. "Calm down, okay? I need you to calm down; you've just had surgery and it's better if you don't get upset. Can you do that for me?" Slowly, she nodded, biting her lip. "Now talk to me. You're saying that you killed your brother?" A moment passed, before she nodded again. "How?"

She shook her head, whimpering. "I..."

"Okay, you don't have to answer that right now. What happened to your sister?"

"D... died. S... su... suicide bombing." He nodded, letting her take her time. "She... she was... sixteen and... th... b... best of... us." Tim chocked his head to the side.

"Why is that?"

"T... Tali... had com... compassion." The statement was simple, but heartbreaking none the less. He sighed.

"Okay. And can you tell me about your parents?" She swallowed, tilting her head back; she seemed to be either gathering her thoughts, her courage, or trying to ignore the conversation taking place. After a moment, she sucked in a painful breath, choking out,

"_Ima_ is dead."

"Now, you don't know that, Ziva." She lowered her head, meeting his gaze at the sound of her name. For some reason, the soft voice that gently caressed every letter of her name was comforting, reminding her of music, or the twist in a good book, or iced tea on a hot afternoon. It told her that maybe she could trust this man, this agent.

She choked on a sob. _"Yes, I do."_

"And how do you know that?" Tears slipped down her cheeks, and he gently reached up, brushing them away.

_"B... because... sh... she... she helped me... helped me... escape..."_

"Escape what?"

"My... _my father_... and... Mo..." She swallowed, forcing the word out in a frightened whisper. _"Mossad..." _

Tim sighed, closing his eyes. So that was why she was so terrified to discuss what happened to her brother; obviously something had happened that involved the Israeli agency. But what?

He pulled away, that brilliant mind of his trying to figure out what to tell her, what to say, how to respond in a way that wouldn't upset her even more. He glanced back at her; tears ran freely down her cheeks, and she was sobbing quietly. Gently, he reached out, patting her hand before he got up. "I just have to make a quick call, okay?" She nodded, hiccupping. He slipped out of the room, heading down the hall to the break room before pulling out his phone and dialing Gibbs.

"What do you have, McGee?" He sighed, slumping against the wall.

"Her little sister was killed in a suicide bombing when she was sixteen. Her brother is also dead, but she won't tell me how, and she seems to think her mother's dead as well." He glanced over his shoulder, back down the hall towards the girl's room. "Boss, she told me that her mother helped her escape Mossad. That that's the reason she was on that plane."

"How do you know that's the reason she was on that plane, McGee? Did she tell you that?" He sighed, tilting his head back briefly.

"No, but it's the only thing that makes sense." He kicked the vending machine. "Look, I don't why, but I think she's telling the truth. Gibbs, when I asked her about her brother, she struggled to speak, as though she were trying to hold a secret back, and when I asked about her parents, she ignored the question, as though talking about it brought physical pain. Whatever this girl suffered in that crash is nothing compared to the mental anguish she's going through right now. Something happened before she left Israel, something involving her father, and her brother, and her mother. Boss, I know it's a longshot, but it's the only lead we have right now."

He heard silence on the other end of the line, and knew that Gibbs was struggling to make a decision. "All right, McGee, if you're sure-"

"I'm not, but it's better than nothing right now, isn't it?"

* * *

><p>She looked up as he came back into the room. He didn't say anything, just returned to the side of her bed, folding his gloved hands. A part of her longed to reach out and remove the gloves, to feel the skin beneath. Was it as soft as it looked? As soft as his lips appeared to be?<p>

"Ziva," She snapped out of her study, meeting his gaze. "I need you to tell me what happened, when the plane crashed. What do you remember?" He'd asked a nurse for a pen and pad, and now sat waiting for her to tell him what she'd witnessed. "Just take it slow, there's no need to rush. I want you to get as much accurate as you possibly can, okay? Accuracy is important in cases like this." She swallowed. "Take your time."

She nodded; inhaling through her tears. "I... I was... sitting in the... the..." She gestured in a straight line.

"The aisle?" Another nod.

"Back... near the... the food..."

"The galley?" He filled in; she was so shaken it was hard for her to remember the words. "How do you know you were near the galley?"

"B... because I... I had to pull my hands in every time the cart passed by."

"Pull your hands in?" She nodded.

"From the... the..."

"The armrests?" She was silent, but a tiny nod acknowledged that he was right.

"So let me get this straight. You were sitting in the back, near the galley, in an aisle seat?"

"Yes."

"How close to the galley were you? Can you remember?" He could see the thoughts rushing in circles through her head, before she finally held up two fingers, whispering,

"Two."

"Two rows away?" When she confirmed it, he nodded, setting the pad and pen down and getting up. "I'll be right back, Ziva, okay? I just need to check in with my boss." Once he'd slipped out of the room and dialed Kate, he relayed the information he'd learned to her, which she quickly confirmed. Tim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he leaned against the far wall, watching her through the small window in the door.

"So _because_ she sat in an aisle seat two rows from the galley and near the back emergency exits..." He cleared his throat, resting his head against the wall. "That saved her life."


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: And Reader, I used a line from your review on chapter 5 for this chapter; that's how much I liked it. **

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 5 and 6; Sazzita and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 6. **

He sighed; the doctors and nurses had come to check on her and asked him to step out of the room, so he now leaned against the far wall, watching through the small window as they examined her. "How's she doing?" He turned; Gibbs was making his way towards him, two cups of steaming coffee in his hands. Clearly, the Team Leader wasn't one for hospital coffee, and Tim had to agree.

"They're checking her now." He admitted, accepting the coffee. "She's convinced that her mother's dead, because she helped her escape. But escape from what?" Gibbs shrugged, sipping his coffee. Tim watched through the window as a nurse gently covered her arm with something and then bandaged it. "I... I couldn't help... noticing that..."

"Spit it out, McGee." He met his boss's gaze briefly.

"That even when she's severely hurt like she is, she's still strongly independent."

Gibbs was silent for several minutes, before,

"Did you ever consider that maybe it's in her nature to be independent?" Tim seemed think about his boss's words, before he turned from the door and strode down the hall towards the small waiting room.

"You mean it's in their nature." He replied, turning to the older agent. "That it's in the nature of the Israeli's to be independent, even when they're hurt? To be... strong and fight back. Like they did in 'seventy-two, at Munich, before being taken hostage and blown up at the airport?"

Gibbs watched him; though his agent had been born in seventy-nine, his fascination with computers and technology didn't completely cloud the brilliant mind that resided within that skull. He knew that Tim loved history, and that his major fascination was centered around the Russian Revolution, when the last of the Romanov line was massacred in that basement long ago in Ipatiev House. He also knew that his agent found the various other agencies- the EU, the IRA, Mossad, etc.- were as tantalizing to such a brilliant mind as the latest codes and hacks or the newest book about the Romanovs' captivity.

Tim was young, he would learn, Gibbs often told himself, but even as he stood there watching his agent work through all the details given to him, he could tell that the younger man was fighting his deepest urge. Perhaps it was the light in his eyes, or the way he kept glancing back towards the room the girl was in, or the small catch in his voice whenever he mentioned her name; whatever it was, it was clear to the Team Leader.

Tim was falling for their witness.

Gibbs had seen it before, an agent falling for a witness, only for the case to end in heartbreak if the witness was murdered during investigation or if the witness was forced into protection- which happened, more often than anyone thought. He'd seen more than one agent- from every agency, not just NCIS- throw away their career for a romance that might never happen, and he was determined to keep his SFA from going down that path.

"How do you know this girl was involved in Mossad?" Tim met his gaze.

"Because she told me. Not in so many words, but she did say that her mother helped her escape from her father, and from Mossad, so we can assume that-"

"We never assume anything, McGee. We get the facts. Got it?" Gibbs asked, stepping up to his agent. Tim nodded.

"Right." He sighed, glancing back towards the hall. "Listen, Boss, she... she told me that... her father made her..."

"Made her what, McGee?" Gibbs asked, stepping closer.

"That he..." The agent swallowed, looking away before forcing himself to meet the older man's eyes. "That he made her kill her brother." Gibbs stepped back, startled. He hadn't been expecting that-

"Agent McGee?" Both men turned.

"How is she?" Tim asked, hurrying to the doctor, who gave him a reassuring smile.

"She's okay. Her vitals are good, and we've redressed her wounds; she's going to need to stay in the hospital for the next several days so we can do skin graphs and make sure her body doesn't reject what graphs we can do. But other than that, she's strong. And she's asking for you." The younger man gave the doctor a shaky smile, moving past him, but the doctor grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Don't put any added stress on her, Agent McGee. I know you're just doing your job, but she needs to rest; she's had a traumatic few hours, and we want to her keep her heart rate and blood pressure down as much as possible. It's not uncommon for survivors like this to die from cardiac arrest hours after the accident, due to the amount of stress placed on them. You make sure she stays calm, understood?" Tim nodded, and the doctor released him. After a moment, Gibbs followed.

* * *

><p>Ziva looked up as the door to her room opened and Tim entered, followed by an older man with silver hair. Her dark eyes widened, and she tangled her hands in the blankets, trying to hide. Tim, noticing her fear, glanced at Gibbs, who stayed back, allowing his agent to step forward and perch on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take her hand. "It's okay, Ziva." He glanced over his shoulder, his tone even, warning the older man. "This is just my boss, Special Agent Gibbs. He's here to<em> help<em>."

_Right?_ Gibbs met his agent's eye. He cleared his throat.

"Can you tell us if you remember anything after the crash, Ziva?" The girl met Tim's gaze, before glancing at Gibbs, who pulled up a chair and took a seat, studying the girl. She had the wounded, frightened look of an animal cornered. It was a look he'd seen on many witnesses caught in many situations. After a moment, he gave her a small smile, but she just glanced at Tim, who took her hand, squeezing gently.

"It's all right. Gibbs is with NCIS. You can trust him." That seemed to catch her attention.

"He... he is one of you?" Tim nodded, chuckling softly.

"Yes. He's... one of me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Here's another of Zani's chapters that's already written, that I hadn't gotten to before my brother and I spent a little time in San Fran visiting friends. So we're back, which means I'm back to working on all this... and my brother is back to trying to decipher his own handwriting for _PLL_.- Licia**

**Thanks to Sazzita, Reader and Saissa for reviewing 7.**

Only Gibbs looked up at the soft knock at the hospital room door; Tim was talking softly with Ziva, keeping her distracted. After a moment, Gibbs got up, softly opening the door to find Kate waiting on the other side of the door. Silently, he slipped out of the room, shutting it softly behind him as they stood in the hallway. "What are you doing here, Kate?"

The young woman held out a folder. "I found Ziva David's family." Slowly, Gibbs took the folder, opening it up. Inside, were several papers detailing the young woman's life in Israel, before the plane crash- "She wasn't lying, Gibbs. Sister was killed in a suicide bombing at sixteen, and her brother was shot. Mother's dead too; body was found in Amman- my contacts think it was probably an honor killing. Don't know how long she's been dead."

The older agent sighed, quickly scanning through everything in the file. After a moment, he sighed. "Thanks, Kate." He slipped quickly back into the room and returned minutes later with the bag of evidence. "Take this down to Abby, see if she can find anything that will help us determine what caused the crash." Once she was gone, Gibbs returned to the room; Tim was speaking softly to the young woman in the bed. He held her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles; the action seemed to calm the fear in her eyes. He gently cleared his throat, causing them both to turn to him.

"Gibbs?"

The older man made his way back to the bed, returning to the chair he'd been sitting in. He held the file Kate had collected out to Tim, who glanced at it quickly, confused. "We need to talk, Tim." He nodded towards the door, and after a moment, Tim excused himself from the bed, getting up, but Ziva grabbed his hand, fear filling her countenance. She shook her head, suddenly terrified to be alone. _And why shouldn't she be? She just survived a horrific plane crash._

"I'll be right back. I promise." And then, as Gibbs watched and to his own surprise, Tim leaned down, brushing a tender kiss to her lips. She started, surprised.

Once they were out in the hall, Gibbs led the younger man towards the small break room, as far away from the young woman as he could drag his Senior Agent without taking him to the roof. As Tim leaned against the far wall, Gibbs spoke, his voice even, calm.

"What was that, Tim?"

"What do you mean?" The younger man asked, opening the file and quickly skimming through it. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"I mean that little display in her hospital room."

"What... display?" Tim asked, as he read through the information found on Ziva's father. "Is this what Kate was able to collect on her family?" He winced, jerking slightly away from the wall as Gibbs strode towards him, smacking him firmly on the back of the head.

"I'm talking about that kiss you gave her, Timothy." He ground out. Tim met his gaze, silent. "Are you trying to get attached?"

"I'm not attached to her, Gibbs. You told me to stay with her-"

"Yeah, stay, as in 'watch over her and get as much as you can about the accident', not stay as in 'start a relationship with her hours after she's out of life-saving surgery.'"

"I'm not-"

"So you're not trying to start a relationship with the sole surviving witness of that plane crash?" The younger agent lowered his head, eyes drifting back towards the file in his hands.

"I was just... just trying to... comfort her..." Gibbs simply narrowed his gaze.

* * *

><p>She waited; neither man had returned yet. Most likely, they'd called another agent to come in and get her statement and stay with her. Most likely, she'd gotten the younger man- Agent McGee, no, Timothy, as he'd called himself- in some sort of trouble. She swallowed, feeling tears begin to prick at her eyes.<p>

After a moment, she slowly lifted a hand, fingers brushing against her lips. They tingled, from his kiss. Though it had only been quick, chaste, it had also been soft and tender- something Ziva had never felt before from a man. Then again, she'd never been kissed, never been touched, by a man, other than her father and brother. Being the daughter of the Director of Mossad was more like being a dove trapped within a beautiful, gilded cage.

A small part of her mind rebelled in happy giggles- the tiny part of her mind not overtaken by the horror of the last several hours. That tiny part replayed the kiss over and over again; it had been so sudden, so unexpected- that even he himself had been surprised by it.

Her first kiss.

She'd just had her first kiss.

And despite the burns, the trauma, the antiseptic smell of the hospital and the chill of the room, it had been perfect. And suddenly, she realized, she wanted more-

As many kisses as he would be willing to give her.

She turned back to the door, hoping, waiting...

Minutes passed, and the sedative the nurses had given her began to work, tugging her eyelids down as sleep fought to gain control of her desperate desire to stay awake. She had to know that Agent- that _Tim_- would come back, that he would be by her side when she woke up. Just as she drifted off to sleep, the door opened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 8.**

There was no way he could allow this to happen- the case was too important, for both the victims and their families and the agency. And yet, he'd watched today as Tim had sat beside her bed; the young man had been the only one she would speak to, respond to...

He understood that she was frightened, that she'd just survived something where there were only about twenty instances of recorded 'sole survivors'. He remembered reading about Cecilia Cichan, the four-year-old little girl who'd been found still strapped to her seat in the wreckage of Northwest Airlines Flight Two-Twenty-Five back in eighty-seven... and the Flight Two-Zero-Three crash of Galaxy Airlines in Reno, Nevada, that left a seventeen-year-old boy the only survivor.

And now this young woman was among the ranks.

If only he could prevent the terrors, the nightmares, the guilt and shame at having survived such devastation-

She whimpered in her sleep, and her small fingers reaching for something to grasp, anything. He sighed, taking a seat beside the bed and reaching out, allowing her to take his hand. She dug her jagged, broken nails into his rough flesh, as though trying desperately to keep her grip on the armrest of seat. Minutes passed, as he watched her struggle within the nightmare, most likely reliving the crash that nearly stole her life.

A scream escaped her throat and she struggled to sit up, her eyes snapping open. He stood, quickly leaning over her, resting his hands to her shoulders to keep her from hurting herself further. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, you're safe."

"... where... T..."

"I sent him home for the night. He'll be back in the morning." Gibbs replied, as the girl slowly relaxed. She swallowed, searching his face.

"But-"

"He needs to sleep, and so do you." She swallowed, shaking her head.

"I..." Fear filled her dark eyes, and he sighed, returning to the chair by her bed.

"Would you feel better if I stayed with you for the night?" She shook her head, only wanting Tim, but when she realized that he wasn't going to hurt her, she slowly nodded.

* * *

><p>Tim awoke the next morning, confused as to the slim girl wrapped around him. She nestled into him, snoring softly-<p>

A moment passed as he reached behind him for his phone on the nightstand; he wasn't surprised to find that it was close to three in the morning... and he usually went out for a run at four. As he rubbed his face, the events of the last several hours came rushing back into the forefront of his mind.

The plane crash, finding the only survivor, waiting at Bethesda for her to survive surgery...

He'd then come home to find her sitting on his sofa, dressed in his NCIS sweats and one of his MIT shirts, his leather jacket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes were red and her hair was a mess, her make up running in rivers down her cheeks. She'd reached for him, and he'd gone to her, pulling her into his arms, rocking her gently. Over ordered Chinese and homemade Irish Soda Bread ice cream, they'd sat at the small cafe table in his kitchen, she telling him of the rape attempt she'd managed to escape, and he trying to give as much comfort as he could. They'd then settled on the sofa, popping in _Fairy Tale_. Eventually, she'd begun to doze against him, and he'd carried her to the small guest room, tucking her in before going to bed. At some point in the middle of the night, she'd climbed into bed with him.

Slowly, carefully, he extracted himself from her embrace and slipped out of bed. After quickly brushing his teeth, he got dressed and slipped out of the apartment, leaving a note to let her know that he was going for a run and would be back soon. As he slipped his headphones into his ears, he told himself that she was lucky to have escaped the assault-

He stopped, hearing the _whoosh_ as a plane took off overhead, and he looked up. The wreckage of Flight Three-Twenty-One was currently laid out in the evidence garage, Ducky and Palmer had a full autopsy, and every team at the agency was working on the case, with Gibbs's team taking lead. So far, all they knew about the flight was that it had taken off from Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv at about eight the prior evening- the eleven hour forty-four minute flight had then crashed down in the Navy Yard about seven that morning, D.C., time.

Right around the time everyone had settled at their desks.

So, if the timeline was right, the plane had been headed for Dulles when it crashed.

* * *

><p>She sat up, surprised to see him in pulling on a light blue button-down. "What time is it?"<p>

"Almost five." He grabbed his jacket, pulling it on. "I'm gonna run down to the cafe across the street and pick up some pastries. Anything specific?" She shook her head. "Okay. I'll be back soon." He leaned down, pressing a quick, firm kiss to her cheek. "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen." Once he was gone, she lay back among the blankets, burrowing into the pillow. His scent enveloped her, and she sniffled.

It had been so long since she'd seen him- though they were both in D.C., he was always caught up in work and didn't have time to get together with her. After a moment, she got up, shuffling into the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee. Her gaze moved over the file he'd brought home from work the night before, and she quickly flipped through it-

Flight Three-Twenty-One.

That was the plane that had crashed in the Navy Yard- the one that had been all over the news as of yesterday.

As she took a seat at the table and flipped through the file, the ringing of his cell caught her attention. After a moment, she flicked it open. "Hello?"

It was silent. "Um... hello? Is someone there?"

"T... Ti... Is... is Special Agent McGee there?" She furrowed a brow.

"Who is this?"

The person on the other end of the line swallowed. "Z... Ziva. Who are you?"

"I... I'm Sarah. How... how did you get this... number?" The girl on the other end swallowed.

"He... Tim gave... he gave it to me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 9.**

"I... I'm sorry, but... who are you? How do you know my brother?"

The voice on the other end of the phone swallowed. "I..."

"Look, I don't know who you are, 'Ziva', or how you know my big brother, and frankly, I don't care." She glanced back towards the clock on the stove; almost six-thirty. Why was this mystery woman calling her brother's apartment at six-thirty in the morning? Though the woman sounded upset and frightened, it could just be a ploy. Sarah knew them well; she'd been stupid enough to fall for that idiot cheerleader's ploy of wanting to be friends, and it had nearly resulted in her rape. She wasn't going to allow her brother to be sucked in by something too. She was smarter than that. "You stay away from Tim!"

"But-"

"_No!_ I don't care how infatuated you are with him! You leave my brother alone, and don't call here again!"

She slammed the phone down just as the door opened and Tim returned. "Sorry I'm late, Sarah. I ran into your attempted rapist at the coffee shop and we had a nice long chat-" He stopped, kicking the door closed. "Did someone call?" She turned to him, shaking her head, her arms folding behind her back, fingers crossing.

"No." She stopped. "Well... wrong number."

He raised an eyebrow, before slowly nodding. After a moment, he made his way into the kitchen, setting his treats down. "Oh, I saw Blake at the coffee shop, and before I left, we had a little chat." His sister paled.

"Timmy, you didn't-"

"Relax. Son of a bitch is still alive, if a little worse for wear-"

"_Timmy!_"

But he pulled her close, sliding an arm around her waist. "He's not gonna hurt you again, sis. I promise." Then, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, taking a seat at the table as she joined him. They ate in silence for a while, before Tim's cell rang. "McGee..." Sarah watched as he quickly sprang to his feet. "Okay, I'll be there as soon as possible, Boss."

"What's wrong? Tim?" He turned back to her once he'd hung up, returning to his seat and taking her hands.

"Sarah, do you remember the news coverage on that plane that crashed in the Navy Yard?"

"Flight three-twenty-one." He nodded. "What about it?"

"Well, there was one person that survived the crash- a twenty-one-year-old girl from Tel Aviv named Ziva _Da_vid-" Sarah swallowed, her stomach knotting. The woman who'd called had said her name was Ziva... Sarah mentally shook herself. No, there was no way the woman who'd called was this same girl he was describing. "I have to get to the hospital. She's the only witness to survive the crash-"

"Wait, Timmy, can I come with you? I... I don't want to be alone." A moment passed before he nodded.

* * *

><p>She looked up as the door to her hospital room opened, and instantly relaxed as he made his way towards her. She'd woken from a nightmare, screaming, crying for him, so frantic that the nurses had called Gibbs, who'd called McGee-<p>

Her gaze slid to the person behind him, and she pushed herself up, trying to hide within the pillows. Her gaze darted back to his, and he glanced behind him, before pulling the chair closer and taking a seat beside her. "This is my little sister, Sarah. She's staying with me for a couple days." Her eyes darted back to the other girl.

"Sarah... it... is Jewish for..." She reached up, feeling for the Star that had once hung around her neck, and now resided within the evidence locker at NCIS, burned by fuel thanks to the crash. "p... princess..." Tears came to her eyes, and she looked up when he reached out, brushing the tears off her cheeks. She glanced back at his sister, who slowly made her way to the bed.

"Sarah, this is Ziva."

* * *

><p>She was burned; her skin nearly black in some sections, her body bandaged in other places. She had IVs in her skin and machines hooked to her body, monitoring her vitals, and yet, she appeared haunted, younger than her twenty-one years. How someone could survive a crash like she had...<p>

"Hi." The girl started at Sarah's voice. She was the woman Ziva had talked to on the phone earlier, the woman who'd accused her of trying to hurt her brother, and who had told her never to call again. She was Tim's sister. "You... survived the crash?"

Slowly, she nodded as Sarah took a seat on the edge of the bed. Just as Tim opened his mouth to speak, his phone rang, and he excused himself, leaving the girls alone. They sat in silence for several minutes before her phone began to ring; Elton John's _Tiny Dancer_ playing, signalling a call from her best friend, Emma. The other girl's eyes began to mist, and Sarah's head snapped up. "How old are-"

"T... twenty-one."

"T-"

"Sorry about that; Kate was-" Both women looked up as Tim returned, and he stopped, realizing he'd walked in on something. "I didn't mean to walk interrupt."

"She is three years younger than you, Timmy." Sarah replied, getting up and rushing from the room. Tim watched her go, confused.

"What just-"

"You are three years older than me?"

"Um... yeah, I am. Why?" She shrugged, reaching for his hand. "Ziva, we need to know why you were on that flight, why you were coming to America. It's important, to the case."

The Israeli took a shaky breath, quickly meeting his eyes before returning her gaze to her feet. "Will I walk again?" He furrowed a brow.

"The doctors don't see why not. Why are you so concerned with walking again? You should be focused on getting better, regaining your strength-"

She met his gaze, tears misting her vision. "Because my father, he... he wants me to... to _join Mossad_..."


End file.
